Fire In A Glass
by ItsLukasBondevik
Summary: Norway can't help but wonder what his role is in the home he has chosen.


"Are you going to leave too?"

Norway's hand paused centimeters above the open gash on Denmark's face, staring at his profile openly. His eyes were downcast and his mouth skewed into a frown, blood smeared across his face and a bruise purpling over his left cheek. They were silent for a moment as Norway continued to clean up the blood, wiping it carefully away as he gently bandaged the wounds. "Don't be so annoying," he said quietly, brushing Denmark's hair out of his face as he covered the cut on his forehead.

Denmark gripped his wrist, his eyes a dull blue as he watched Norway. "That's not an answer, Norge." With a scoff he tugged his wrist away and stood up, finished with the job and cleaning up the leftover bandages. He didn't look at Denmark, whose expression was hard and his eyes cold. "I wouldn't blame you. I could've killed him. What if I did that to you? You're not going to stick around to wait for that to happen. Right? Fin didn't." Norway clenched his fists around the bandages his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. Denmark never really knew when to stop talking did he?

"Stop that," Norway commanded through gritted teeth, walking away from Denmark to put everything away in the cabinet where he housed the medical supplies. He needed to clean up the destruction that his brawl with Sweden had caused, because Denmark wouldn't have the heart to do anything about it and besides, Norway was used to it. Things were broken; furniture, a window, several tapestries that were hanging on the walls, a curio housing decorative weapons was smashed on the floor, all were smashed in the entrance of Denmark's home. Norway squeezed his eyes shut. Things that he did not know how to fix himself. Sweden could have fixed the furniture and the curio, Finland could have mended the tapestries and repaired the window. What could Norway do? He could clean up the wounds of his comrades when they needed it but otherwise, he knew, he was completely useless.

The room was empty when he returned to do some damage control, Denmark nowhere to be found. Norway opened the front door and started to toss out bits of furniture to deal with later, ignoring the splinters as they dug into his palms. He gathered up the torn tapestries and folded them the best that he could, piling them with their fasteners at the corner of the foyer. He swept up the broken glass on the floor, wrapping the larger pieces in a spare bit of cloth so as not to waste them. He placed the bundle by the tapestries and began to clean.

Norway wanted nothing more than to scrub all the blood from Denmark's hands, but the best he could do was remove it from the floor, from the clothes and his own hair. He could remove every last trace of it until the room was back to its pristine self, despite now being empty of the things that once filled it. It would almost be like it never happened to begin with. He could almost imagine Sweden walking in the door with food for dinner for that night, whipping up something delicious for them all to eat with Finland helping him. He imagined the laughter and the beer and the stories they all shared together when they dined. Suddenly, Norway missed them, Sweden and Finland. He missed the things that filled up this room that reminded him of them, of the furniture Sweden built and the decorations that Finland picked out and the things that made them family.

For a moment he blinked back tears before realizing he had been scrubbing the same patch for tile for a couple of minutes, the floor already spotless. Norway stared at his hand wrapped around the ran, adjusting the skirts of his outfit to avoid the damp floor. His fingers had scars from the cleaning solution, the sheer amount of stains he has cleaned over the years obvious in his skin. He'd been with Denmark for so long, but what had he contributed to filling his up this empty home? When Fin and Sve left, all that remained was Denmark, no sign of anyone else in the decorations or the furniture in this place.

Were he to leave, if he ever considered it, the house would remain the same.

His hands laid in his lap, the rag utterly forgotten and Norway felt his uncertainties fill his chest. Norway realized how little impact he actually made over the years and wondered what difference it would make if he did leave, what importance his presence even had here. Denmark nearly tore the place from its foundations when Sweden left. What more could he, or even would he, do for Norway?

"Stupid, annoying brother," he finally said under his breath. He had never questioned his own importance before and yet he couldn't help but wonder how Denmark viewed him now. Norway felt a hand on the back of his head and saw Denmark's face come into view as he knelt beside him. They met eyes, Denmark marginally recovered from his trauma, though his eyes were still so sad.

"Why do you always clean up my messes?" he asked quietly, taking the rag off the floor and absently rubbing away a few spots that Norway had not yet gotten to.

He narrowed his eyes. "Someone has to. If they did not this house would be condemned by the end of the week." Norway was not kidding and Denmark knew that, but he laughed anyway, sitting down beside him and keeping his fingers combing through his hair. Norway liked the feeling and allowed him to continue, watching his friend closely.

"You're absolutely right. What would I do without you Nor?" It was a serious question punctuated by the falling of Denmark's hand from his hair to clasp their hands together. His fingers were rough against Norway's but he gripped them tightly regardless. "I think that all the time. I would be an even bigger mess without you. But I can't understand why you're still here. After what you've seen, after all you know, all I've done."

Norway countered, "Why do you let me stay?" Denmark was stunned into silence but Norway could not pretend that it was not said. It was too late to retract the statement, the best that the could do was let it all out. Hundreds of years of keeping quiet could ruin a man and Norway was afraid of what would happen if he were to come completely clean, to be brutally honest with Denmark. The thought both frightened him and sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. For the first time in his life he had no idea what Denmark would do. "Why do you want me around so badly? All I've ever been able to do for you is clean the messes that have been made in here, but I've never contributed anything of my own. What do I add to your life, Danmark?"

Denmark stared at him in shock, his mouth slightly agape though his swollen cheek impeded the seriousness of his expression. But Norway could not bring himself to tease him about it, the gravity of the situation very obvious in the air. "What do you mean?" His voice was choked, unable to believe what was being said to him. "Are you really that clueless Nor? And here I thought I really was the stupid one." He winced and pulled his hand away from Denmark's, unsure if he should be offended or not.

He asked quietly, "Would you even care if I was gone? You tore up your home for Sweden, Dan, what would even bother to do for me?"

"I'd burn it to the ground for you." Norway looked back to him, staring at the solemnity on Denmark's face. He reached out and gently grasped Norway's hands. "Maybe you don't realize this Norge but this place would collapse without you. The things in it, the people who come and go, everything that I have would be pointless without you. It would be worthless. It would all fall apart without you here to keep it together." Denmark moved his hands to cup Norway's cheeks, staring into his eyes so intensely that for the first time, Norway wanted to look away from him. He could barely watch the emotions that played across his face. All of it was simply breaking his heart and he just couldn't explain why. "I care about Sweden, Nor. He is my brother and I would do anything for him. But I love you." The words sent a spark through his veins that he never experienced before and his hands tightened into fists against his lap. "And you are everything to me. Losing you would cause the fall of a kingdom."

Without even thinking about it, Norway's face was pressed against Denmark's chest and he was embracing him fiercely. Denmark was so warm, his arms around Norway's shoulders and his hand against the back of his head, holding him closely. Warm tears made their way down his cheeks as he buried his face in Denmark's chest. He kissed the top of Norway's head, and rocked him back and forth quietly. "I don't plan to leave," he said sharply, trying to act like he was not quite so emotional as Denmark leaned back from him. The smile on his face spoke volumes and he pressed his lips to Norway's. He allowed it, gripping the front of Denmark's shirt until the man pulled away to meet his eyes again.

"I'm glad."

And for the first time in his life, Norway felt like this was truly his home.


End file.
